Of Dragons And Kings
by Soseolga
Summary: After the fall of both Arthur and his beloved Albion, all hope seems lost. However, when a mysterious force threatens to destroy what remains of his beloved Albion, Arthur rises once more as the scion of legend... but this time as Dragonborn.


Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls video game series nor do I own the Merlin television series.

Summary: After the fall of both Arthur and his beloved Albion, all hope seems lost. However, when a mysterious force threatens to destroy what has become of Albion, Arthur rises once more as the scion of legend... but this time as Dragonborn.

_A/N: This is my first published fanfiction, and also my first crossover I've ever written! I got this idea while reading up on Merlin's dragonlords... I noticed that their powers are a lot like the ones of Skyrim's Dragonborn, but also very different. Then I got this crazy idea that Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin and... I got this idea. The story takes place centuries after Arthur's death by Mordred, and he never returned to save Albion as Kilgharrah had predicted. Merlin, however, has lived on in a living hell... Well, that's all I'll say for now! I hope you enjoy!_

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**OF DRAGONS AND KINGS**

"Your failure still haunts you, young warlock."

I turned my eyes up to the great dragon and felt the ghost of a smile tug on my thin, cracked lips. The time I could have ever been considered young had been long ago, when there was still hope and warmth in a cruel and cold world. I had long since withered away, as my hair grew white and my beard long and wild. I couldn't help but laugh at my companion's name for me. "Young? Hardly, Kilgharrah." A sudden blast of harsh mountain wind whipped through the alcove, sending a sharp chill rocketing up my spine. I hugged my robes closer around my shoulders and shifted closer to the small fire that did little to warm me. After I managed to stop my teeth from chattering, I replied quietly, "Th-that should be obvious."

The dragon did not suffer from the bitter cold, and was draped lethargically over the ledge of the small mountain alcove, watching me intently. At my answer he exhaled harshly through his nostrils, blasting me with a gust of almost painfully hot air. Evidently, he was irritated with me. "Did I ever say that you have failed? Did I ever say that your destiny has been changed?" I turned to look at Kilgharrah, raising an eyebrow before turning back to the fire. The dragon continued, "There is hope for Albion yet, young warlock. Arthur will return when he is needed most."

I let out a hollow laugh at that. Arthur was a mortal, and a dead one at that. He had not lived to see his kingdom fall, to see his widow die childless and alone, to see his servant - nay, his best friend - lose hope in humanity itself. "Even if Arthur returns," I replied, hugging my knees close to my shriveled, creaky body as I stared into the dying flames, "he has nothing to return to, nothing to save. Albion fell long ago." My grip on my legs tightened and I felt an almost painful hopelessness seize me. I heard the faraway voice of an old man shout, "His chance at saving Albion has come and gone, Kilgharrah! He will never return!"

Almost as if the bleakness of my words had weakened the small campfire, the flames sputtered and died, plunging the small alcove into darkness. With a sigh, I stood. A simple word and a little burst of magic brought a small fire into the world, floating just above my outstretched palm. The tiny flame seemed to fill the whole of the alcove in a pleasant warmth, as though it were a roaring bonfire rather than what appeared to be little more than a candle's flame. I tossed it into the air and in the air it stayed, burning brightly though it had nothing to burn. A dim light danced across the walls of the alcove and glistened on Kilgharrah's scales.

I watched it absently as I found my thoughts wandering back to the good days. Days when I only had to worry about the little errands Gaius gave me, or how many pairs of Arthur's boots I'd have to shine in addition to mucking out the stables. As long as I kept my magic a secret, I didn't have to worry about whether or not I would see another sunrise, or if I'd get a knife in my back if I met another human. Of course, I had to save the life of a total prat more times than I could ever count. But I would give anything - my own life even - to save the life of that worthless clodpole who was, in fact, worth more than I or anyone could ever give. But Arthur was dead, as was everything else I had grown to love, and there was no bringing him or anyone back.

That fateful night Arthur met his premature doom had long since been lost to time, as was his kingdom. Albion had fallen to its own corruption and greed within a century or two as nobleman and commoner alike had feuded and warred over the leftover scraps of fallen kingdoms like a pack of wild dogs. Guinevere had managed as Queen Regent to quell some of the rebellions and threats of war, but after her death chaos had usurped the throne of Camelot. And that chaos had spread to neighboring kingdoms, infecting all of Albion like a terrible plague. In a mad scramble for power, the people of Albion had sealed the fate of their entire world.

I had watched it happen and I knew even with my powers I could not tame the rampant greed of humanity. That had been Arthur who would have stayed their blades, who would have united them under the same banner, who would have ushered in an era of peace and prosperity. Under my fumbling guidance humanity had driven itself into a state of depravity and near extinction. I had failed the world miserably, as it was not my destiny to save Albion from itself. And so I had awaited Arthur's return anxiously and with bated breath, as Albion was dying and it needed its King then more than ever.

However, years of waiting had only brought the destruction of Albion. As I sat on the sidelines waiting for the destined hero to conquer all and carry the day, I could only watch as my beloved home collapsed in on itself, crushing all beneath the crushing weight of its own corruption.

I walked to the edge of the alcove, looking down on what remained of Albion. Life itself had left the land, as vibrant spring and summer had been replaced by a never-ending, brutal winter. Where there were once forests and lakes were now dunes of stone and snow, holding the once beautiful land tight in an icy coffin. What was left of humanity wandered the wastes, following the migratory animals that managed to survive the constant winter. The once proud people of Albion abandoned their grand castles and palaces and embraced their gradual devolution, as it was the only possible way to keep surviving. What had been abandoned was lost beneath glaciers and the sands of time. Now, nothing remained other than an endless desert of maddening white. Bountiful and beautiful Albion had decayed into what was known now as the desolate and merciless iceland of Atmora.

"Albion is lost, can't you see that?" I said, looking to Kilgharrah, "The very earth has forsaken us! Those smart enough have already fled to the land across the Sea of Ghosts, as Albion no longer accepts them!" I looked out to the sparkling, frozen waves of the distant sea and felt my brow furrow in anger. The southern continent, a place called Tamriel or something or other, I had seen with my own eyes. Human-like creatures, elves, infested the land and were no better than the desperate, greedy humans now invading it. War would undoubtedly erupt between the two races, and Tamriel would suffer the same fate as Albion. "There is no hope for this land, not without Arthur."

Kilgharrah let out a laugh before saying, "You should have started listening to me when you were young, Merlin! Maybe then you would have understood your role, and would have taken me seriously! Had you listened and obeyed, maybe Arthur would have survived! But I guess you are right, the Albion of old is lost."

His words cut into me like blades, and I winced at the pain they inflicted. I had brought this upon not only myself, but the world. The guilt and the remorse that I felt were like a mountain hefted onto my shoulders, and I could feel myself crumble beneath their crushing weight. Kilgharrah's bluntness reminded me of that weight, and his cutting words caused my strength to falter. My master - my best friend - had died because of my countless poor decisions, and the world had suffered for it. It was all my fault. There was no denying that.

"I thought you were trying to make me feel better," I mumbled, sliding down to seat myself against Kilgharrah's warm body, "If you were, you're doing a rotten job."

Letting out a sigh, the dragon replied, "Make you feel better? Don't make me laugh, young warlock!" I shot a glare up at the dragon, who merely smiled wryly back at me. However, his smile quickly turned downwards into an annoyed grimace, "I was wondering if you've thought of a name for the egg, unless you'd rather we wait until we both die of old age?" The dragon turned his golden head towards a small, shrine-like structure in the deep end of the alcove, atop of which sat an egg as black as darkest night.

"I share your fears, Dragonlord, and so you must understand the importance of this undertaking. The Albion of old is lost, but do not lose hope. In this egg there sleeps another dragon, one who will change the world for the better. Humanity has had its chance, Dragonlord, that you know well! The dawn the age of dragons is nigh, and here is its vanguard! Awaken this vanguard and follow a new destiny, Dragonlord!"

I looked back at the egg and sighed. Maybe Kilgharrah was right. Humanity was a lost cause, that was evident, but maybe dragonkind could create a world that was worth living for. That idea had become the driving force behind our quest to better the world. When my kind, the humans, rejected everything they had once been and descended into what they were now, I had turned to the other half of me: dragonkind. In a cold, dead world Kilgharrah became something of a brother, a friend to fill the void Arthur's death had created. We were both alone and lonely, as I was the only human who remembered Albion and Kilgharrah was the last of his species. In a sense we were kindred spirits, and my title of dragonlord became something of a pretense. We became something akin to friends and our bond grew as we formulated our plan to rebuild Albion.

And so he had gladly accompanied me on what we had both expected to be a necessary but probably fruitless quest to fulfill our grand scheme, and after countless years of searching we stumbled upon our first and, quite likely, only dragon egg. This treasure had hidden itself atop the southernmost peak of Atmora, where one could see the northern coast of faraway Tamriel from the top of the range. Neither I nor my dragon companion had known that another egg had even existed before we had accidentally stumbled upon it. Desiring to wake the young dragon as soon as possible, we then camped out in the alcove as we prepared to hatch it.

But now that the time for hatching the egg had come, I felt myself hesitate. The birth of an age of dragons would mean the death of the age of man. After all, it had been proven that man and dragon could not exist. Man destroyed what he could not understand, and he had never understood dragonkind. He had never understood magic. He had never understood peace. But, even with such sin on mankind's shoulders, could I really wake this egg and ensure the destruction of humanity? Did I really have the heart to build a new Albion upon the ashes of the old?

Although I sometimes tried to find good in what remained of humanity, I couldn't help but remember those who had exploited my mercy. Morgana, Mordred. So many others. Had I listened to Kilgharrah and allowed them to die, Arthur would be alive and Albion would be saved. But because of my mercy, because of my naive compassion, the world was doomed to end in squalor and misery. And as the years rolled by and the grief and remorse festered within me, my heart grew as hard and cold as Albion had become. I felt no compassion for the creatures who walked the frozen lands of Atmora and who had the gall to call themselves man. I felt no remorse for the actions I was about to take, for after all, what was there to feel sorry for?

"You know, I think I do have a name for it," I said, approaching the egg. Reaching my shriveled hands out to the glossy surface of the egg, I felt its smooth shell and the amazing warmth that radiated from within it. I closed my eyes and inhaled the cold mountain air, feeling it fill my lungs and sting them with its refreshing chill. Could I do it? Could I awaken this dragon and give it a name, a role, a destiny?

Many thoughts crossed my mind in the moments before I formed that fateful name on my lips. I thought of Arthur's smile and his love for Camelot, of Gwen's compassion and strength. I thought about how I had failed them and allowed their kingdom to rot and decay. I thought about Morgana and Mordred, and how I had failed them, letting them descend into madness and allowing them to fulfill their dark destinies. In allowing them to live I had caused so much death, so much evil. In sparing the few who became truly evil, I had sealed the fate of the innocent many. It was my fault Arthur had died, it was my fault Albion had fallen.

But now I could amend that. I could re-create Albion, I could create a new Albion that would make Arthur proud.

No. I _would_.

Stretching my fingers across the surface of the egg, I closed my eyes and looked to the dragon inside. Its considerable power surprised me, as I sensed that as it matured its power would be greater than Kilgharrah's, Aithusa's... maybe even my own. "This dragon will be the one that rids humanity and the world of its impurities and destroy them once and for all. This is the creature that will devour the sins of the world and forge one anew, to give both humanity and dragon another chance to atone and better themselves. This dragon will be the savior of mankind and dragon alike. Atmora will become Albion once more. I dub thee..."

Taking a deep breath, I called out to the denizen of the egg with not just my voice, but my entire being. The alcove rumbled with the force of my voice and the raw power of my call.

"... Alduin!"


End file.
